Sold
by Naidoo
Summary: When Oliver ends up at a bachelor auction it is up to Felicity to save him and make sure he doesn't go home with the wrong woman. ONESHOT Pre-Olicity.


_AN: My muse apparently struck again. Thank you for taking the time to read. _

_Also, I'm aware that the amounts mentioned are...slighty unrealistic. But I guess that's why it is called Fanfiction - you can make these things up and make them sound as outragous as you want :)_

* * *

Her phone rang shortly past eight pm.

She knew – _felt it in her gut_ – that she shouldn't have answered that call. But it read 'Oliver' as caller ID and … well she had to. For all she knew he could be laying in some alley, injured and calling her for help/reinforcement.

So she picked up.

"Felicity?" she heard his voice, sounding slightly stressed. "You need to come down to the Ritz. As quickly as you can…" She was about to ask and worry and go through all the possible scenarios of what could have happened and what mission had gone wrong, when he all of a sudden added "And you need to wear an evening dress."

OK, clearly he wasn't in any trouble when his concern was what she'd be wearing. Well, at least not any kind of trouble that had him wounded, bleeding and in some dark alley, facing several bad guys.

"What exactly is going on?" she asked cautiously.

"I'll… explain when you get here. Just… get down here quick." And then he was gone, the call ended and Felicity was wondering whether she had been just dreaming.

The thing was, she really didn't want to get up from her comfortable couch. She had spent the past few hours binge-watching all her favorite shows. And eating ice-cream. She did not feel like going down to the Ritz. And certainly not to get out of her comfy and maybe slightly ratty sweatpants that surely had seen better days, but were the most comfortable piece of clothing she'd ever worn. Who cared that they looked like they should have been disposed of years ago and like they could fall apart any minute?

Felicity wasn't even sure whether she owned an evening dress or… on second thought, who was she trying to fool? She was working for Oliver Queen a.k.a. The Arrow. By now she probably owned more evening dresses than jeans. Not that she owned that many jeans to begin with.

Half an hour later she stood next to Diggle like the good friend she was. Oliver hollered and she… well… she came running.

"Technically he needs you to bail him out," Digg simply said.

"Out of jail?" Felicity asked shocked. She knew the day would come when his vigilante identity would be released but…this soon?

"Um no," Diggle interrupted her train of thought. "Out of this…bachelor auction," he said, nodding behind.

There was silence for a moment and Felicity tried to figure out whether he was just joking. But somehow he looked too… serious.

"Bachelor auction?" she asked slowly. And obviously 'bachelor auction' would make more sense regarding Oliver's 'instruction' to wear and evening dress than Felicity having to bail him out of jail.

She saw Diggle nodding, probably reacting to her question. She looked around the grand ballroom of the Ritz, trying to think or understand. And then it clicked and she figured why Oliver had called and why she was here.

"Have you two officially lost your mind?" Felicity asked incredulous. "You want me to buy Oliver –at a Bachelor auction? Oliver, who happens to be my boss?"

"You are not _buying_ him. This isn't cattle you are talking about," Diggle replied amused.

"Could have fooled me," Felicity simply replied, having her eyes and attention on what was happening on stage. "On second thought… you know in ancient Rome or Greece they used to auction of slaves at markets set up just like tonight's 'event' – just without the diamonds on the women and without the gala dinner and couture gowns."

"Look, it was not my idea to call you. Or get you down here. But I guess Oliver didn't have too many options he could have called, " John just said and Felicity rolled her eyes at his reply. Of course it wasn't his idea. This idea had _Oliver Queen_ written all over it. And in all fairness, John looked slightly uncomfortable now that she looked closely. He probably wanted to be here as much as she did.

"You mean options who would happen to be home alone on a Saturday night."

"I did_ not_ say that," Diggle was quick in saying.

"It's bad enough that for months everyone at QC seemed to think I slept my way to be Oliver's EA. Finally the rumors have somewhat died down. So I sure as hell will not even consider placing a bid. Regardless of what his idea, excuse or explanation is," she explained, looking around once more. "How…how did he even end up in this anyway?"

"You remember how Oliver had a tendency to always agree to whatever favor his mother needs without paying much attention?" Diggle asked and Felicity nodded.

"Turns out that one of them was his mother asking him to be here tonight, as one of the bachelors."

Felicity couldn't hide the small smile displaying on her lips. No matter how hard she tried. Karma. But then again, Oliver wasn't a bad guy, he just had a few characteristics that drove her up the wall.

"There's no way I'm bidding on my boss," Felicity said once more, just in case John thought she could be persuade. "Not that I could afford him to begin with."

At Diggle's raised eyebrow, Felicity gestured her hand around them.

"Look at these women! Most of them wear jewelry worth more than what I make in a year, hell what I make in ten years. Oliver Queen is… like the most eligible bachelor in Starling and I take bets that every single one of these ladies is chomping at the bit, waiting to place a bid. He's most likely going to… fetch the highest bid tonight."

Diggle looked at her with raised eyebrows, a smile on his lips, before reaching for something in his tuxedo jacket. A moment later Felicity saw what looked like Oliver's cheque book. _No. Freaking. Way._

"I don't think money will be much of an issue…" he simply stated, handing her the book.

"That is Oliver's," she informed Diggle as if he didn't know that. "It has Oliver's name on it," she added, seeing Diggle look at her confused.

"Yes, because it is Oliver's. That's why his name is on it."

"I'm not going to place a bid and then pay for it with a cheque issued by Oliver Queen, to… 'buy' the man himself," she argued, placing air-quotes when she said 'buy'. "How would that look?"

"Like a girlfriend, getting rid of the competition," John simply stated, grinning at her.

Felicity rolled her eyes. "May I remind you of the whole EA, rumors and them finally having died down argument I gave a few moments ago?"

This time Diggle let out a sigh, looking at her. "Look, as mentioned before, this is not my idea," he simply said, making sure Felicity was paying attention. "And may I remind you that only last week you asked Oliver to pose as your boyfriend when your grandma was in town for the day? You said as a friend you would do anything for him as well. Now is _anything_."

"Okay, first of all… I had asked anyone else I knew – apart from you – to um… fill that position," Felicity said, wincing when she realized how it sounded. "Second of all… my grandmother is senile, she probably had forgotten about Oliver an hour into her meeting him. And I only did it really so she wouldn't think I'd end up as crazy cat lady and dying alone one day."

"If your grandmother is senile, how will she remember that you won't end up all alone?" Diggle asked with a smile.

Felicity groaned, snatched the cheque book from John's hands and just cursed under her breath for a moment. "Fine, I'll do it. But… if this backfires I'll blame you." She looked at him for a moment before adding "And Oliver. I'll blame both of you."

"What could possibly go wrong?" John asked and Felicity couldn't help but think '_a lot_'. This would most likely end up in the society section of all local newspapers. And somehow she assumed her name would make it into this article as well. Maybe she should already come up with an explanation – a logical one. One that wouldn't sound like 'I'm his girlfriend' or anything like that.

The auction had a slow start. A few bids were placed on the first few bachelors, but nothing that Felicity couldn't have afforded herself. Sure, she would have lived of Ramen and water for a few months, but she could have afforded these bids.

When a certain Carter Bowen was up the bids all of a sudden poured in. Felicity herself wasn't quite sure what it was that seemed have all the ladies go slightly crazy, but the winning bid was around 25,000 dollars and Felicity assumed that Oliver wouldn't go any cheaper. She wouldn't be disappointed.

When Oliver finally came up she had lost count over the amount of champagne glasses she had managed to drown. The bids after Carter Bowen went up, up and away. If she had already problems digesting the bid for Bowen, it became only worse after that. Two of the bachelors made 30,000 dollars each and another one went as high as 40,000 dollar. Judging by the rustling, whispering and murmuring, which was going on around her, that was unusual even for people who technically had the money.

And then it was Oliver's turn. The bidding started surprisingly slow. There were a few that seemed eager, but were quickly giving up for no specific reason it seemed. From her yearlong love-hate relationship she had with Ebay, Felicity had a strategy. She would wait, letting everyone think they were safe before jumping in and catching them all by surprise. Given, this wasn't Ebay and you didn't automatically win the moment the clock struck zero it was probably kinda useless, but it was a strategy nevertheless.

From what she could gather there were really only two women who meant business – so to speak. But one of them already had taken suspiciously long to place her last bid. Felicity assumed she would be taken care of with the next bid, or the one after that.

When the bidding reached 50,000 dollars Felicity decided to introduce herself into the bidding.

"Fifty-three-thousand," she said, counting mentally how many pair of shoes she technically could buy with this amount. The two competitors looked confused and surprised about the sudden addition to their bidding war. Felicity didn't miss the look on Moira Queen's face either. Disapproval never looked so glamorous.

"Fifty-five-thousand," was the reply from the only women Felicity expected to be competition. The other one expectedly remained silent and wouldn't keep on bidding.

"Sixty," Felicity said, only seconds after her rival had bid. The fact that Felicity didn't lose time in upping the bid seemed to show her rival that this was ending in Felicity's favor. Felicity saw her looking around the table she was sitting at and several of what Felicity assumed were here rivals' friends shake their heads. _Ha_.

She saw the auctioneer looking at the other woman, waiting whether there would be another bid. The woman shook her head almost regretfully.

"Going once," she heard the auctioneer say. Followed by "Going twice."

"A hundred thousand," came suddenly a female voice from behind them. Felicity thought she recognized that voice, but it couldn't be, could it? Like in the movies, every single person in the ballroom turned around, wanting to see who it was that placed such an obscene amount of money.

_Isabel Rochev_

Felicity nearly fainted when she realized she wasn't wrong.

Diggle, who stood next to Felicity let out a surprised sound. "You've got to be kidding me."

There was silence. It seemed almost as if no one dared to say anything. A few looked at Felicity, curious as to see what she'd do next.

Felicity looked at Diggle, who in return just shrugged surprised, looking at the cheque book in her hands. Felicity followed his eyes and looked at it as well, as if she'd never seen it before. For a moment Felicity was numb, debating what to do. This was a lot of money. She knew Oliver's family was rich and he probably had access to more money than she ever could dream of heaving, but… did that justify for her to go higher?

"A hundred and ten thousand," she said, almost as in trance, not believing she just said it. She heard the murmurs and whispers around her, saw the raised eyebrows and surprised glazes between attendees. Just like some of them, Felicity herself couldn't quite believe she just bid that amount. She didn't even dare to look at Oliver. Not that she'd see much to begin with.

A few seconds after her bid, she heard Isabel's answer. "A hundred and twenty five."

_Fuck_

"Is she serious?" Diggle asked.

"An eighth of a million say she is," Felicity said. "I mean... what better way for demonstration of power and also humiliation of Oliver than to purchase the CEO of the company she tries to take over at a bachelor auction?"

"You can't let her win," Diggle said. "If it was only about rumors at QC and possible liaisons between EA and CEO…now it is about so much more. If she wins that auction…"

"I know… but… an eighth of a million? That is a whole lot of money."

"Also a lot of money for charity," he argued. Felicity looked at him stunned.

"I believe charity should be our last concern right now…" she just argued, turning around to look at Isabel again. "She… she has money. Sure, not as much as Oliver and the Queen family has. But… this could easily go up to… half a million. Rochev is not the kind of woman that lets a small matter like decency stop her from going through with a plan."

"In the grand scheme of things I believe half a million are justifiable," John said, before adding "Also, if the slightly nervous looking Moira Queen is any indication I'd suggest you keep bidding."

Felicity looked at Moira. Diggle was right. She hadn't even noticed how Moira seemed to look rather nervous. Who could blame her though? The woman trying to take over her dead husband's company was about to go home with her son. Could anyone say soap opera? And then something surprising happened. Moira nodded, while looking directly at Felicity. It felt like sudden approval, like anything would be better than Oliver going to Rochev. Felicity wasn't quite sure how that made her feel, but then again she decided on simply ignoring it and not thinking about it at all.

"A hundred and fifty," Felicity, just as the auctioneer was about to start with the countdown.

The words had been spoken and another wave of murmurs and whispering erupted throughout the ballroom.

She saw Isabel raise an eyebrow. "A hundred and eighty."

Felicity felt Diggle's hand come up, holing her left elbow. Support. That's exactly what she needed. And maybe a chair would have helped as well.

She knew she somehow needed to outsmart Isabel. She only needed a good Poker Face. The only problem was that she sucked at Poker. Really, really sucked at it. But this wasn't about her. And Diggle was right. It wasn't any longer about what people at QC thought about her and Oliver's relationship. They reached a point where they were way beyond that issue. This was way more serious.

The auctioneer had already started her countdown again. Felicity needed to act fast.

She grabbed a glass of champagne from one of the tablets that passed her, turned towards Rochev, downed the contents of the glass and said "A quarter of a million" before putting glass back down on another tablet that was passing her. Determined, confident.

Everyone in the room looked at her. Partly with eyes wide open in shock and surprise, partially with curiosity as of who the woman was that bid obscene amounts of money.

Rochev's reply didn't take long. For a good ten minutes they went back and forth, with Felicity noticing quickly that her strategy of showing confidence and bidding obscene amounts of money was not really working. It didn't seem to impress her opponent. So she started raising the amounts slowly. She was surprised to find Isabel doing the same. She would have expected that Rochev would now up the ante and quickly bid a million or something like that. Of course, a million was abstruse. Who in their right mind would spend that much money on a guy?

They had reached almost half a million and it felt as if they had been at it for an hour or longer. One glance at Digg's watch however told her it had been roughly 10 minutes that had passed. Another ten minutes passed and Felicity noticed Isabel's bidding was slowing.

Maybe there was light at the end of the tunnel after all. Diggle next to her seemed to have noticed as well and was at least as surprised about it.

The bids only slowly rose but that didn't mean that they still didn't talk about obscene amounts of money. The last bid of the night came from Felicity.

"Seven-hundred-fifty-thousand."

The whole ballroom was quiet all over again and everyone looked at her. Felicity preferred to not look at anyone – especially not Moira Queen.

There were a few moments when nothing happened. When everyone looked at Isabel Rochev, including the auctioneer who silently asked about her next bid. Nothing happened.

And then the countdown started for hopefully the last time.

"Going once"

Felicity looked at Diggle for no particular reason. She was hoping that this would be over soon.

"Going twice"

She still looked at Diggle. Looking at her friend was better than thinking about how much money she was about to spent. How many shoes she probably could buy with that money. Or how many months she wouldn't have to think about rent. Or what a nice house she actually could buy from that come to think of it.

"Sold-" it finally was heard and Felicity could have sworn she and Diggle weren't the only ones letting out long breaths. Finally this was over.

"Please tell me I did not just spend three quarter of a million to buy…. Oliver," Felicity said to no one in particular. "Wait…did I just buy Oliver Queen?" she asked a moment later and Diggle just smiled. Like he always did. The same smile she was certain Oliver would give her in a few moments time.

Of course she 'bought' him. It wasn't as if she didn't know as such. But in that moment she just realized what that meant, what it could mean, what it would probably mean by the time they got into the office on Monday.

They would definitely come in separately.

But then again Monday was two days away.

Enough time for Oliver to come up with a plan.

And he would. She would make sure he did!


End file.
